Food for Thought: An Interesting Outlook on Seven Meals
by Fluttering Phalanges
Summary: She was no cook and he was not one to eat. Yet, it takes two to overcome most challenges. (A series of seven one shots consisting of one meal each day of the week. Post Mockingjay.)
1. Monday

**I've seen this done in a few fanfictions so I wanted to give it my own twist with Hayffie. I hope you enjoy, I'm not one to usually write one shots-or a series of one shots for that matter, but I wanted to try my hand at it. I will post one each day, ending on Sunday! Please, if there is a certain dish you'd like me to do, please say so in a review! I am in need of food ideas for any meal of the day! -Jen**

_Monday: Eggs Benedict _

It is more upsetting than it perhaps should be. After all, there are far more important things of value than some measly attempt at a breakfast cuisine that wouldn't matter within a few hours when lunch came. However, Effie Trinket is unable to stop the corners of her mouth twitching into a frown when the underdone, raw egg spills carelessly over the two English muffin halves with an almost comical splash. It looks far from luxurious. In fact, it looks far from anything at all.

"I don't even want to hear it," her voice is edged with hysteria as she slaps the plate in front of the still half asleep man who merely raises his eyebrows the unexpected bang. "I am in no mood for your poorly developed manners today!"

Haymitch Abernathy eyes the plate wearily; lifting up his fork only to poke at the orange slime that now seeps slowly from the bread. "Went from escorting to abstract art, have we, Princess," he mumbles, voice still groggy from sleep. "Perhaps you should consult Peeta before attempting such forms of…self expression."

"Oh hush," she scolds, taking a seat across the table from him. "I woke up extra early to make breakfast for you! The least you could do is be grateful."

"I didn't ask you to," Haymitch replies, jabbing at the side of the muffin absentmindedly.

"I thought that it would be a nice gesture," Effie frowns. "But I see that I was wrong," and she sniffs, dabbing at her eyes with her napkin.

Now it's his turn to frown. Haymitch looks over at the frazzled woman across the table. At the faded pink wig she still insists on wearing after all of these years. It's funny how some things never change. Not that he would want them to anyways.

"You're crying," it's not a question, but a statement.

"No," she continues to sniff. "I have something in my eye."

It is the oldest lie in the book and he knows they both know it is. Yet, he does not point it out. Instead, he holds the folk with more focus now, eyeing the dish he knows will probably be shooting out of his system with ungodly rage in the next hour.

"What is it?" He asks dryly.

"Honestly, Haymitch," Effie says, dabbing at her eyes before setting down the napkin in her lap. "You don't have to eat it if you don't want—Eggs Benedict. It's Eggs Benedict."

And he lifts his fork, digging it into the raw sludge slowly. Lips pressed firmly, he shovels it into his mouth and swallows, the bitter taste of raw egg souring his tastes buds. But he repeats this motion again and again. Eating it for her and shoving all other matters aside. It's the least he can do, after all.


	2. Tuesday

**Thank you so much ****American Fantasy****, ****dreamzspark****, ****Gdreams****, ****XmadlyinloveX****, ****HogwartsDreamer113****, ****typicalRAinbow****, ****Nicejob-Sexy****, ****ritergurl12****, and ****Clara Meliza****for your wonderful reviews of last chapter! And, of course, a huge thanks to those who favorited and followed this story! This oneshot will have spicy food as requested by Gdreams! Now, without future ado, here is the next chapter! Next update will be Wednesday for those curious! Feedback is greatly loved and appreciated! And for those wondering about "****Of Perfume, Liquor, and Baby Bottles****" expect an update for that soon as well! –Jen**

_Tuesday: Three Bean Chili _

"Uncle Haymitch! Uncle Haymitch!"

The small, yet energetic five year old runs into the living room. From his seat on the couch, Haymitch observes the once white, cleanly pressed shirt the child sported upon his arrival is now splattered with dark stains of tomato. He raises his eyebrows, wondering if the kitchen looks as the child does. At least it isn't his own home-or, he's glad for the sake of Effie it isn't.

"I helped make the chili!" The boy beams, his green eyes sparkling. "You're going to have some, right, Uncle Haymitch?"

Haymitch would never fully understand why Bae Odair decided upon referring to him as "uncle" in the first place. He was not related in the slightest to the late Finnick Odair nor was even close to him for that matter. Yet, the boy had taken to calling he and Effie "uncle and aunt" and not even Haymitch had the heart to correct him on such titles. Though he would never admit it, he had grown quite fond of the boy after all the time he and Effie spent with him whenever Annie came to visit.

"Sure, kid," he promises and the child squeals in delight.

"Bae," Haymitch looks up to see Peeta standing in the doorway. His blond hair lays slick against his temples from sweating over the hot stove. Blue eyes lock on Haymitch and he gives a nod; Haymitch returns the gesture. "Your mother is looking for you," Peeta continues, wiping his hands on a dirty dish rag. "She wants you to wash up and change before dinner."

"Awe," whines the boy. "Do I have to?"

Peeta's lips form a smirk and he tosses the rag towards the couch. It lands with accuracy on the child's shoulder causing Bae to once again laugh in amusement. Haymitch finds himself wincing at the volume of the noise.

"The faster you do, the sooner we can enjoy that chili," and the child is off, running full speed towards the stairs before Peeta finishes.

"He has a lot of energy for a kid so young," Haymitch comments, looking over to where Bae disappeared off into. "Have a hard time enough keeping up with him as it is."

"That he does," Peeta says leaning in the doorway. There is a look of yearning in his eyes and Haymitch knows it isn't for the chili.

"Katniss still doesn't want any kids?" He asks, knowing full well it is a sensitive topic to bring up.

Peeta seems to gnaw on his lower lip, "Nah," he says. "But we're only twenty two. We have awhile to sort things out…" There's a moment of pause before anyone speaks again. "Does Effie want kids?"

"Don't know," Haymitch shrugs, not wishing to discuss such matters himself. "We're too old anyway, not like that's our biggest concern about it."

"Early to mid forties isn't such a bad age," Peeta comments. "You still have time."

Haymitch shrugs again and says nothing; the conversation ending there. It's not too long after that, that the sound of pitter pattering feet can be heard from the upstairs, growing gradually louder as they draw nearer.

"Done," calls the shrill voice of the boy. "I'm all clean!" And he reappears in the living room with company of an escort. "Aunt Effie helped me out!"

"I see," Haymitch nods, looking to Effie who, in return, offers a small smile. "Didn't meet up to her cleanliness standards, did you?"

"Nope!" Bae replies cheerfully and Haymitch cannot help but chuckle for a moment.

"He looked as if he needed a little help," Effie says with a small nod towards the boy. "And it is, after all, my specialty in looking well dressed and proper, as you know.

Haymitch grunts comprehension just as Bae lunges forward, taking a hold of his hand.

"Come on," he says, trying to tug Haymitch forward with all of his might. "Come on! Come try my chili!"

"Give him a moment, love," Effie says with a smile, "Your uncle is old after all. He needs some time to stand up."

Haymitch throws Effie a look, "I'm not that old," he mumbles.

"You sure fool me in the mornings," she says lightly and Haymitch really wishes to slap off the smirk that now blossoms on Peeta Mellark's face.

"Uncle Haymitch!" Bae whines, oblivious to the teasing in the room. "Come on!"

"Alright, kid," Haymitch mutters as Bae stills seems to tug at him relentlessly. "Let's go try that chili."

For such a large dining room it still seems somewhat crowded with Haymitch, Effie, Annie and Bae Odair, and the Mellarks only to fill it. Nevertheless, they all manage to squeeze in at the round mahogany table without too much discomfort. And once Annie has served the chili into the fine porcelain bowls of the Mellarks, food takes priority over the thoughts of tight space.

"Go on, Uncle Haymitch!" Bae urges. "Try it!"

Assuming that it cannot be as distasteful as Effie's attempts at cooking, Haymitch takes a rather large spoonful of the meal. Immediately, as the warm liquid touches his tongue, he regrets his discussion. It's as if his whole mouth is on fire, the taste of some sort of spice burning the inside of his cheeks. If it weren't for the look Effie sends him across the table-her eyes seemingly watering in pain as his own must be-he would have spit it back out without a second thought. Instead, in agony, he swallows.

"Wha…" he reaches for his glass of water, taking large gulps. It doesn't help any. "What did you put in this, kid?"

"Red pepper!" Bae replies cheerfully, not seeming to have even tried his own bowl yet. "Lots and lots and lots and lots," he takes a deep breath. "…And lots and lots and lots of red pepper!"

Haymitch glowers at Peeta across the table who merely smiles sheepishly in return. "Guess I should have been paying attention a little more."

"Don't you like it, Uncle Haymitch?" Bae asks, peering up at the old victor with wide eyes.

Haymitch presses his lips together, trying to think of a way of wording it without hurting the boy's feelings. "If I need to be revived from a heart attack, I'll definitely call upon you to make me some of this chili." And Bae smile seems to be proof enough that it worked.

"…We may have some leftover chicken from the night before if anyone would be interested in making sandwiches for lunch…" Katniss finally speaks up. "In case the," she looks over at Bae and Haymitch knows she doesn't want to hurt his feelings as he had felt. "…the chili doesn't fill us up."

And no one seems to put an argument up to that.


	3. Wednesday

**A huge thank you to ****Minerva-Amantine****, ****Deadlyrose70****, ****Gdreams****, ****HogwartsDreamer113****, ****Clara Meliza****, ****Guest****, ****dreamzspark****, and ****Anna**** for your lovely reviews of last chapter. It means so much to know you guys enjoy this little series. Anyway, much gratitude to Anna for your suggestion of lamb stew for Wednesday's oneshot! Now, without further ado, here is today's entry! Feedback is greatly loved and appreciated! Enjoy! –Jen **

_Wednesday: Lamb Stew with Dried Plums _

"Honestly, Haymitch," Effie croaks as she balls up what he assumes is her one hundredth tissue. "I am more than capable of taking care of myself, I assure you." She barely finishes her statement before breaking into a coughing fit.

Even when sick, there really was no stopping Effie Trinket's "go-on" attitude. And though it got on his ever last nerve, a small part of Haymitch Abernathy found this stubbornness she so claimed not to have, endearing.

"Of course you are, Princess," Haymitch's voice drips with sarcasm as he takes a seat on the edge of her bed. "But, I don't think the rest of Twelve would take kindly to you infecting them if you tried."

"It's just a cold," she frowns, lips slightly pursed. "It's no plague."

"That doesn't make it any less vicious," he replies. Then eyeing her carefully, he adds, "…how are you feeling?"

"Congested," she breathes, reaching for another tissue. "But that's nothing new."

He nods at this, head turning slightly towards the direction of the door. "Got you something," he mumbles.

Her makeup-less eyebrows rise slightly in surprise and she sets the crumpled up tissue down into her lap. "You…got me something?" Her tone is questioning as if she is unsure of what to think.

He nods again, "Well, made is a better word. And before you start gushing over the fact that I did, it wasn't my idea."His hand reaches up, absentmindedly rubbing the stubble of his chin. "Katniss came over and suggested that I make you something that'd help with you cold."

"Katniss was here?" Effie asks, sitting up a little straighter in bed. "Why, I didn't hear her come in."

"You were sleeping," he says bluntly.

"And you didn't wake me?"

"I saw no need."

She nods slowly, silent as she processes this news. "Might I inquire what it is?"

"Hold on," Haymitch says, standing up from his spot. "I'll be back."

Effie cranes her neck as she watches the old victor exit the room. Her fingers tap gently on the bedspread, slightly curious, slightly nervous of what Haymitch intends to bring back. He had never been one for giving gifts-Effie remembers the horridly knitted crimson socks he gave her one birthday as a probably, last minute thought-but perhaps this time would be different. At least, she hoped it was nothing knitted.

"You're going to want to sit up more for this."

The voice pulls Effie from her thoughts and to her shock, there is Haymitch standing in the doorway with what looks like a bowl of some sort of liquid, perhaps even stew. Her eyes narrow slightly as he walks over to her, setting the bowl down on her bedside table.

"I really have no problem with walking to the kitchen," she says, eyeing the bowl suspiciously. "I'd rather not ruin the bed sheets."

"And I'd rather not have you fainting on the floor half way there and then have to explain myself if someone unexpectedly walked in." Haymitch retorts, nodding towards the bowl. "Now eat, it's lamb stew."

"Lamb stew?" Effie says, taking the bowl onto her lap. "Why, was this not Katniss's favorite dish back from the Capitol?"

"Surprised she even has the recipe," Haymitch says, sitting back down on the bed. "Thought that she wouldn't want to have anything that reminded her of that damned place."

Effie bites her lower lip and Haymitch feels the slightest pang of guilt at his words. Though Effie held no close ties to the Capitol anymore, it still had been her home for years and she still felt obligated to remember whatever brainwashed memories she had of its "happier times".

"Anyway, it's good." He says looking at her bowl. "Katniss made it, I mostly did the chopping, but, it shouldn't be burned or raw. Not like it would if I would've tried to do it alone."

Effie lifts up a spoonful of the stew and places it into her mouth. It's warm and creamy, and she can taste it very well despite her cold. She swallows slowly, finding it very hard not to go and gobble it down quickly. Illness was no excuse for lack of manners.

"It's delicious," she breathes, setting her spoon down. "Thank you, Haymitch. That was…very sweet of you."

He mumbles something that she has to assume is a broken "you're welcome" but nevertheless it makes her smile. She lifts her spoon up once more and eats another mouthful of the stew, feeling slightly better already.

"You know," she says, eyeing him with a soft smile. "If you weren't so gruff all of the time, you'd make an excellent nurse."

He merely rolls his eyes at this. "Just eat your food, Princess," he mutters.

But Effie swears there's a hint of a smile in his features.


	4. Thursday

**I apologize for this being posted so late guys, but I had to finish a chapter for "Of Perfume, Liquor, and Baby Bottles". Anyway, huge thanks to ****Deadlyrose70****, ****HogwartsDreamer113****, ****Clara Meliza****, ****Gdreams****, ****lovingtheboywiththebread****, ****Narcissesme****, ****Anna****, and ****sportygirl23**** for your ever so kind reviews for the last oneshot! Now, without further ado, here is Thursday's entry with request from Narcissesme! I hope you enjoy! Sorry if it isn't my best work. It's super late and I'm half asleep due to cold medication. Anywho, feedback is greatly loved and appreciated! –Jen**

_Thursday: Ambrosia _

"Anything that sounds like medicine can't possibly taste good, Princess."

Effie finds herself chopping the pineapple a little faster every time Haymitch decides upon making some snide remark-or any rude comment for that matter-about the dish they are making. Granted, there were many things she would rather be doing at this moment that didn't involve preparing fruit for a salad, but it was Peeta's birthday and they had to bring something to his celebratory dinner. And upon thinking on the positive side of things, even she couldn't mess up a simple fruit salad.

"What are Maraschino cherries anyway?" Out of the corner of her eye, she catches Haymitch holding up the jar of round, candy red fruits to the light. "I'll be damned if that shade is natural. Looks like that lipstick you were wearing that time to Hawthorne's Christmas party." At least she can smile a little at the fact he remembers that.

"I don't understand why you are making such a big fuss," Effie chides as she dumps the chopped fruit into a bowl. "I merely asked for you to help me make it. I'm not going to force you to eat it."

"Might as well have eaten it," Haymitch frowns as he begins to peel a clementine. "I'm going to smell like citrus for days. Stuffs impossible to wash out of your fingernails."

"Well I quite like the smell," she mutters to herself before turning her attention to the grated coconut.

The two fall silent as they work to complete the various chopping and slicing of the ingredients. Every so often Haymitch grumbles about a certain fruit or his dislike for pecans and every so often a marshmallow will accidently slip from between Effie's fingertips and hit him square in the back of the head. Innocent mistake, she swears, but she's never been the best one to tell lies.

"Do you even know how to work this thing?" Haymitch asks when it's finally time to whisk the cream and sugar together. He holds up the electric mixer with raised eyebrows and Effie cannot help but feel slightly offended as she tries to hide the fact she really has no earthly idea.

"Of course I do," she says snatching it from him. "Honestly, you act as if I am incapable in the kitchen at all."

"Well…" Haymitch begins, but a look from Effie tells him to be silent.

"Just move to the side," she says slipping in front of him. "I'd rather not elbow you. These machines can be rather powerful, you know."

Haymitch does as she says but not because he's worried about being elbowed. More of, he'd rather not be in the line of fire when Effie overpowers the mixer and dairy starts to fly. He goes to the back wall of the kitchen and, with arms folded, leans back ready to watch the show.

To Effie, it looks simple enough. There's a switch with three different levels of power to choose from. How hard could it possibly be? She frowns softly in concentration, steadying the mixer in the bowl before flipping it on. It begins to hum softly, churning the sugar in with the cream to form the soft peaks that the recipe said would happen. Feeling rather confident now, she decides to turn up the speed another level. It's at that moment that her sleeve on her right arm that she had pushed up previously begins to slip down and for a moment-just for a mere second-she let's go of the bowl to adjust it.

Even after years of heavy drinking and lack of exercise, it's incredible how quickly Haymitch manages to dodge the rogue bowl as it shoots across the kitchen and hits the wall with a loud crack. The mixer falls from Effie's hand, spitting cream as it spins violently against the tiled floor, a look of horror etched on her face.

"I…I just let it go for a second…" She splutters, her cheeks burning with mortification. "Oh, how dreadful!"

He could laugh. It's not as if he hasn't earned the right to. Or perhaps, he could point out that she lied about her mixing skills. But instead, Haymitch reaches down to retrieve the dirtied bowl that rests at his feet. He walks over to where she stands, placing the bowl in the sink without a second glance.

"You were right," she mumbles, shaking her head. "Go on, just say it now and get it over with."

However, he just rolls his eyes as he reaches down for the still spinning mixer. He lifts it up and, with a quick flick, turns it off. Taking his finger, he swipes it across one of the metal beaters and, after what appears to be careful consideration, places his finger in his mouth.

"Not bad," he muses, glancing down at the beater in his hands. "Maybe it wouldn't have tasted so bad after all. Guess we'll never know."

Effie tries hard not to smile as she snatches the beater from him. "Stop that," she scolds, her tone far from one of seriousness. "Don't eat things off of the floor."

"I didn't," he retorts.

"You know what I mean," but she smiles as she says it.

"Do I?"

"Mm." She says, turning to the sink to rinse of the dishes.

Haymitch knows Peeta wouldn't care too much anyway if they didn't bring a dish to eat. After all, he knows all too well that not many meals are completed by he and Effie. And in all honesty, Haymitch doesn't mind in the least bit. There are more memories that way.


	5. Friday

**I know this is posted awfully late and I apologize immensely for that. This weekend is rather busy for me and depending on what time I get home tomorrow from work and then babysitting, it will be interesting to see what time Saturday makes its appearance on this story. Anyway, huge thanks to ****dreamzspark****, ****Gdreams****, ****lovingtheboywiththebread****, ****sportygirl23****, ****Deadlyrose70****, ****Clara Meliza****, and ****Anarchy Girl**** for your reviews of last chapter! Now, with requests from dreamzsparks, here is today's oneshot! **

_Friday: Lobster _

Clearly he must've been drunk or at least, out of his right mind when he agreed to this. Those are the only two logical explanation that come to Haymitch Abernathy's mind as he sits slumped in a chair far too straight for any comfortable posture. Instead of his usual, informal attire, he is choked with a tie of the most atrocious shade of green and in a tuxedo that is some color he knows surely can't even have an actual name. When he had given into Effie's pleas to visit Annie in District Four, never had she mentioned her plans for a dinner out. Something, Haymitch finds, far more frightening than any arena's muttation.

"More wine, sir?"

Haymitch peers out of the corner of his eye and sees the familiar figure of their waiter. Underneath his arm is the long, pale blue of the bottle he wishes he could gulp down rather than take it in glasses. At least the night would go faster that way.

"He'll just have water, thank you." Effie tells the server much to his dismay. And before he can even put in a single word, the man nods and is off. "You've already had two glasses, you don't need a third," she says.

"What's it to you?" He doesn't mean for it to come out in a growl, but he's not about to apologize for it either.

"I don't ask much of you, Haymitch Abernathy," Effie scolds, shaking the tiny, two pronged fork in his direction. "The least you could do is try to act more civilized during the one time we actually go out to eat."

He mutters something under his breath that he knows Effie will be unable to catch. If he had known what he was in for during this trip, he would have come up with some poor excuse about how he needed to stay behind to repair the geese coop or help Peeta rebuild the back fence. But sadly, any chance of escaping was long gone as the waiter returns, this time accompanied by a large, white plate.

"Your dinner," he says, placing the plate gracefully in the center of the table. "And might I say what a delicious one at that."

There were no lobsters in District Twelve. Come to think of it, there really wasn't any sort of seafood at all. So, Haymitch could not suppress an eyebrow raise when the thick, red crustacean looked to him with its buttered surface and long, black feelers.

"It's staring at me," is all Haymitch says in reply to the waiter's words.

"Of course it isn't," Effie says turning slightly pink with embarrassment. "It's been cooked."

"It still has eyes."

"Well, what did you expect?"

"Not this."

Effie lets out a huff and pinches the brim of her nose in displeasure. "This is why I cannot take you anywhere, Haymitch…" she breathes, mumbling quietly more to herself than to him.

Haymitch ignores her frustration towards him and he looks at the monstrosity that is to be his dinner. Cautiously, as if some part believes that there is still some chance it will come back to life and snap at him, he prods it with the edge of his knife.

"And how exactly are you supposed to eat it?" He grumbles, wishing to be offered another glass of wine again. Maybe this time, Effie would be too preoccupied with her ranting to decline it.

"You have to have to crack it," Effie sighs, still obviously displeased with his lack of gourmet food knowledge. "With these," she lifts up the strange scissor-like device that had been sitting off by its lonesome on the table.

"That's what that's supposed to be used for?" he blinks.

"What did you think it was for?"

"…Decoration."

Effie completely ignores him now as she reaches for one of the plump claws. With a rather sadistic snap-to him at least-she breaks open one of the pinchers to expose the white meat hidden inside.

"Now, I don't want to hear your complaints until you've at least tried it," she says as she plops a small piece of the creature down on his plate. "We're paying twenty five dollars for this. I'd rather not waste it."

"Twenty five dollars?!" though, money is not really an issue between the two of them.

"Haymitch…"

He sighs, lips pressed tightly together in displeasure as he looks to the meat. At least it isn't as red as the lobster's shell. Hesitantly, he lifts it up with his fingers-despite Effie's protests to use his fork-and pushes it into his mouth.

It's soft, slightly sweet as the taste of butter spreads throughout his tongue. He chews it slowly, trying to avoid Effie's curious look as she waits to heat his response. It's not terrible. On the contrary, he actually _likes _it. He swallows, reaching for his glass of water to have a sip before setting it down.

"It's not bad." He says quietly, feeling a strange sense of defeat as Effie grins with pride.

"Oh, I just knew that some part of you had to have a taste for the finer things in life!" She claps her hands together and continues to look at him with that smile.

"Only when that part of me doesn't want to waste twenty five dollars." He mumbles, reaching out with his fork to take some more of the now, rather delicious dinner.

"Just wait until I introduce you to mussels! Oh, I know you will love those!" She gushes. "And perhaps clams? Oh! Oysters! Yes, let's not forget about those. Perhaps some crabs, maybe Annie can cook some up…"

And Haymitch cannot help but be thankful that their vacation to Four will be only for a few days. After all, there is only some much he can stomach and not enough alcohol in the world that can save him from the wrath of Effie's eccentric cuisine moments. Even if he secretly enjoys lobster.


End file.
